


Bluebell Healing

by BrambleroseBleekerBaggins



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bilbo Died, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, His widow went on the quest, Jealous Thorin Oakenshield, Slow Burn, female hobbit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29623701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrambleroseBleekerBaggins/pseuds/BrambleroseBleekerBaggins
Summary: Cross Posted on Fanfiction.netWhen Bard comes across a group of dwarves on the edge of Mirkwood, he doesn't want to help. But then he notices a woman is traveling with them. What he doesn't expect is to meet a woman who can empathize with the grief he has gone through, and motivate him to be a better father and a better man.AU- what might have happened if it wasn't Bilbo who went on the quest, but his widow
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Original Female Character(s), Bilbo Baggins/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Laketown

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing

Bard was not fond of dwarves. Living in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain, it was impossible not to know the tale of the destruction of Dale and Erebor by heart, and as a descendant of Lord Girion, Bard had more reason than most to reflect on the past. While some in Esgaroth preferred to dwell on the skill and wealth of the former dwarves of Erebor, Bard saw that former great people for what they were. Self-seeking, insatiable, reckless. Bard knew enough about their history to know that Erebor was not the only dwarven realm to be destroyed by their greed. The difference was, Erebor wasn't the only city destroyed by dragon-fire. The people of Dale had lost their home too.

Perhaps Bard was prejudiced against dwarves, but when coming across a group of strange, bedraggled dwarves on the edge of Mirkwood, it was better to be cautious than stabbed in the back. Bard kept his bow drawn. A bald, rough-looking dwarf brandished a wooden staff at Bard as quickly as he spotted him. Bard fired a warning shot, hitting the makeshift weapon in the center and quickly did the same to a younger dwarf who grabbed a rock, knocking it out of the dwarf's hands. It wouldn't hurt to scare them a bit.

"Do it again," Bard said calmly as he aimed his bow towards the group, "and you're dead."

He kept a careful eye on the dwarves, though as they appeared unarmed they were not much of a threat.

The oldest of the dwarves, judging by his white hair and beard at least, stepped cautiously forward. "Excuse me but, you're from Laketown if I'm not mistaken, the dwarf said rather more diplomatically than Bard would have expected from a dwarf. "That barge over there, it wouldn't be available for hire by any chance?"

Bard was not unkind, but he wasn't reckless either. It was one thing to help out a neighbor in need of food. It was another entirely to help a group of strange dwarves who appeared to have washed ashore with naught but the clothes on their back. So Bard did what any sensible bargeman would do. He set about his job while the white-haired dwarf tried to soften Bard up. The dwarf would be a fine merchant. Which is what he claimed to be, though the arrow marks on the barrels that drifted in with them, gave Bard doubts that they were telling the whole truth.

He looked around at the group of dwarves. Sure, some of them looked fierce and proud, but others looked exhausted and worn, like a wind would blow them over. A feminine sounding sneeze came from the back of the group, and Bard felt his heart soften a bit when he saw a shivering female doing a rather impressive job of hiding behind a couple of the dwarves. She was swamped by them in height and girth, appearing like a child apart from her figure and the maturity of her face. She had neither the beard nor bearing of a dwarf, yet she was obviously not of the race of men. While he disliked dwarves in general, it was not in him to leave a woman out in the elements wearing wet clothing.

Bard bit his tongue through his annoyance at having one of the other dwarves, one with a very arrogant bearing make further demands of him. However, he didn't make it easy for the dwarves to 'convince' him to smuggle them into Esgaroth. A bit of extra money would help winter be a bit more bearable after all.

Bard watched with some amusement as the dwarves grumbled and complained at the emptying of their pockets, or boots in some cases. They certainly weren't proving the rumors wrong. He glanced again at the young lady who accompanied them. She was shivering badly, lacking the body mass that kept the dwarves better insulated. While the dwarves scrounged for money, Bard approached her.

"Here, you look like you need it more than I do." She looked at him in surprise as he held out his coat to her. It wasn't very warm, but it was better than the wet, worn coat she had on already.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice soft and melodic in contrast to the rough, grating tones of the dwarves. She slipped off her wet coat, and shrugged his onto her shoulders. It was as long as a dress on her and about as baggy as a flour sack. Smiling, she wrapped it around herself to further enjoy the warmth. "I'm afraid I've lost my manners. I forgot to introduce myself. Bluebell Baggins of the Shire. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She curtsied gracefully as she spoke, though she looked rather humorous wearing her trousers and his baggy coat.

"No harm done, Miss Baggins. We didn't exactly have a proper meeting. I'm called Bard."

"Are you a singer?" Bluebell asked, her soft brown eyes mischievous.

Bard chuckled lightly. "Afraid not. I'm just a simple bargeman. Nothing more, nothing less."

"I'm sure that's not true. After all, not many people would risk smuggling a group of strangers in need. And very few indeed, would loan the coat off their back to one of those strangers." Bard should have felt warm at her praise, but somehow he felt condemned. He hadn't intended to treat the dwarves with kindness, and indeed he still hadn't. He had only felt the need to be kind to her, first as a woman in need, and now as a gentle, soft-spoken beauty he could honestly enjoy conversing with.

"Baggins!" Both of them jumped at the harsh tone of the arrogant dwarf's voice. She smiled apologetically at him before responding to the rather rude summons. Bard couldn't help but wonder what their relationship was as he saw the dwarf position himself rather possessively between her and Bard. Putting the unnecessary question from his head, Bard focused on the task at hand. Getting Bluebell and her company safely to Esgaroth.

If Bluebell never saw another fish again it would be alright by her. As much as she appreciated Bard smuggling them into Laketown, Bluebell was more than a little upset that his methods had ruined her favorite dinner for her. Never again would she be able to enjoy a perfectly broiled fish fillet with lemon juice without remembering being smuggled into Laketown in barrel with fish covering her face and half-suffocating her. In all likelihood she would have nightmares of the experience for the rest of her life.

Unfortunately for Bluebell, and the rest of the dwarves, the fish debacle was not the only traumatizing experience they had to suffer through. The next was by Bluebell's standard's far worse. Hobbits did not swim (not the respectable hobbits in any rate). So to expect a gentle, well-bred hobbitess to swim in a lake through a toilet in order to enter a house was mad. Maybe, though, it was Bluebell who was mad because she agreed without a protest.

So it was, that after half-suffocating, half-drowning, and half-freezing to death from getting drenched in cold water for the second time that day, Bluebell arrived in the water closet of Bard's home, where she was further embarrassed when she saw that she and the dwarves had a captive audience—Bard's children. As a child, she had had the proper etiquette for every situation drilled into her head by countless female relatives—then had it drilled into her head again by her Baggins in-laws after she had married Bilbo. However, never once did any aunt or in-law explain what to do if you arrived at a host's home through their toilet.

Sigrid, Bard's oldest daughter, however took the situation in stride, scrounging up warm, dry blankets and sheets for some of the bulkier members of the party to wrap themselves in while their clothes dried, and some old children's clothes for Bluebell and those they would fit. Bluebell, herself, was lent a warm loose nightgown that was short enough for her without being too tight around her curves and spare shawl that Bluebell assumed was Sigrid's. The warm, clean clothes did a lot to improve Bluebell's mental state. They were safe for the moment and for the most part warm (though it seemed impossible to ever be completely dry in Laketown).

"Could I help you at all with your work, Miss Sigrid?" Bluebell asked, eager for something to do to keep busy, especially if that something was a mundane activity similar to something she might have done at Bag End.

Sigrid's eyes lit up at Bluebell's question, but promptly clouded. "I couldn't possibly ask for help from a guest."

Bluebell chuckled lightly before replying. "It's a good thing you didn't have to ask then. Please, I really would like to help. It's been months since I've had a chance to do any sort of housekeeping."

"Alright, then. I suppose I shouldn't deny a guest a request if it's in my ability to grant it." Sigrid's eyes twinkled as she responded. It was becoming clear that the young girl was had a cheerful spirit even if it had been somewhat crushed by her gloomy surroundings. That the master of Laketown seemed to have it out for her father probably didn't much either.

The two women worked well together. Bluebell was a skilled enough housekeeper that she was quick at discerning what needed to be done without Sigrid instructing her. Bard's other daughter, Tilda, helped with some of the less arduous tasks, chattering all the while. Sigrid and Bluebell were both amused by the little anecdotes and tidbits of information that Tilda had collected and chose to share with them. There were still moments when Sigrid's eyes were glazed over and filled with worry, but Bluebell figured there wasn't anything even Tilda could do about that.

Tilda, such a sweet girl. Bluebell enjoyed talking with the little girl and watching her expressions change like light through a prism, but it was still a bittersweet experience. She couldn't help but remember her own little girl as she looked at Tilda. It had been months since she had seen such an obvious reminder of her loss, and it stung.

"All you alright, Miss Baggins?" Sigrid asked worriedly, looking up from the soup she was stirring. They had finished the rest of the housework and Tilda had left them to bother the other guests with questions. Bluebell had elected to stay with Sigrid rather than join the increasingly gloomy company.

Bluebell smiled weakly. "Just remembering. I'll be alright. You needn't call me Miss Baggins, though. I've never been a Miss Baggins in my life. Call me Bluebell. It's the only name that fits me now."

"I'd be honored to, but why doesn't it fit you? Isn't it your last name?" Sigrid asked somewhat cautiously.

"It was my husband's last name," Bluebell said simply, knowing it was enough of an explanation.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss." Sigrid's words were familiar, but they rung true. Bluebell remembered Bard mentioning the death of his wife when Balin had been bargaining with him. No doubt Sigrid was remembering the loss of her mother.

"It's not like I've cornered the market on pain, though it was an uncommon thing in my neighborhood to be left widowed while still relatively young."

"It's not so uncommon here, sickness seems to thrive in the damp," Sigrid said somewhat darkly.

"It is my understanding that no matter how common it is, death still stings," Blue responded, her voice thick with compassion.

"Do you know… Does it ever get easier to bear?" Sigrid asked, her voice quiet.

"Not exactly, but after a while you learn how to laugh again without guilt, to smile without sorrow."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not allowed to be happy, not when my Da is still so sad. Ma died when Tilda was born, I was only seven. I remember so little of her but what I remember best is how my Da glowed when she was around. He was happy all the time then, now it's becoming harder and harder to get a smile out of him." Sigrid sobbed as she finished speaking and Bluebell's heart went out to the little girl who had lost her mother too soon, just as Bluebell had lost her daughter far too soon.

"If your mother was any portion of the woman your father thought she was, she would want you and your family to be happy. And from what I've seen of your father, he feels the same way. Don't mourn harder than your heart can handle. If I had died and my little girl had lived, I would have wanted her to smile and laugh and be happy even if it was without me."

"Your little girl?" Sigrid responded in shock, her voice laced with pity.

"Rosabella was a delicate thing, but a Took (that's a hobbit clan known for adventurers) to the marrow of her bones, absolutely obsessed with rivers and boating, a most unhobbitlike interest. She and her father had gone on a trip to visit some of our relatives who lived beside a river while I had stayed behind to help a pregnant friend. She fell in the water while peeking around where she wasn't supposed to and Bilbo tried to save her. He succeeded but soon after first Rosabella then Bilbo both caught a terrible coughing sickness. For a while it seemed like Bilbo might recover, but when Rosabella didn't make it the grief sent him into a relapse."

Bluebell had been staring at the fire as she spoke, so it surprised her when she looked up to see Sigrid's face and saw Bard behind them, watching her face intently, a sympathetic look on his face. Bluebell blushed self-consciously. She hadn't meant to parade all her grief out in the open, it was just that she had felt a kinship with Sigrid and had wanted to help the girl better understand her advice. Embarrassed, Bluebell excused herself, giving Sigrid one last kind smile before escaping to join the dwarves, giving the somewhat valid excuse to check on Kili.


	2. Handholding

The dwarves had for the most part not disappointed Bard's expectations. While Balin, the negotiator, was polite enough, the rest of the group of dwarves were either aloof, mistrustful, or unimpressed by what Bard had been able to do to help them. In all honesty, he didn't much care for their opinion. It wasn't as if he was much impressed by them. They were overly secretive and suspicious, fitting their reputation remarkably well.

Bluebell, though, she was something else entirely. While the dwarves treated him as an enemy, she was quick to see him as an ally. Her smile was sincere and unguarded when she talked with him even though her traveling companions (a brooding dwarf with sharp blue eyes and greying black hair in particular), were obvious in their attempts to keep her away from him. It was her he thought of when he had to convince himself to help the dwarves, despite their abrasiveness. Helping them would help her, and he never wanted to have to see her in trouble.

Still, though, as the dwarves spat at the weapons he had managed to provide for them he had to clench his fists to restrain himself from punching the brooding, arrogant one in the face. He ended up storming out of his house before he kicked the whole lot out on the street (or water as it were).

After walking around for a while, making sure that no one suspected him of smuggling dwarves into his house, he went back inside to find Bluebell talking intently with Sigrid. He meant to leave them in privacy but then he heard Sigrid talking about him and knew that he couldn't pull himself away. Hearing Bluebell share about her own family was not something Bard had accounted for in his decision to listen, though. He never would have guessed that she had been through so much pain. He had barely kept going when his wife had died and he'd had three children to take care of. He couldn't imagine losing both his wife and his children at once. She was stronger than he had ever expected.

He was about to slip away before they noticed him, when Bluebell looked over at him. Pure embarrassment and more than a little panic filtered across her face before she guarded her expression and excused herself to check on her companions. Bard felt terrible for intruding on something so private, but at the same time he couldn't help the strange feeling he had in his chest as he watched her walk away. This was a strong, beautiful woman who had not only been through the same pain he had endured but had learned to live again. It was a connection he couldn't ignore, not when he had already felt drawn to her.

"How is Kili doing?" Bluebell asked Oin, honestly very worried about her friend, even if she had used checking on him as an excuse to get away. She was fond of the young dwarf, viewing him almost as a nephew even if he was technically older than her.

Oin shook his head, presumably not wanting to talk too openly with the lad's uncle and brother in hearing-shot. Bluebell frowned, seeing for herself how pale Kili's skin was. He had managed to fall asleep, which was good, but she was positive that if she touched her hand to his forehead it would be burning up.

"Baggins!" Bluebell turned around to see Thorin waving her over. She reluctantly responded to his summons, knowing that it was better to keep him in a good mood but also annoyed at the rudeness of his summons. She wouldn't call out "Oakenshield!" if she wanted to speak to him, nor if she did would her tone always be so gruff.

"What is it?" She purposely didn't say his name as the dwarves insisted on keeping their real business secret.

"You've been spending far too much time with the bargeman and his family."

Bluebell sighed in exasperation, feeling her temper rising at the arrogant tone he had. "I don't see any reason why it would be any of your concern who I spend my time with as long I don't talk about the quest."

Thorin glared at her, obviously feeling like she had challenged his authority. "I'm the leader of this company, I believe that it is my prerogative to dictate how you spend your time as long as you are under contract."

"Believe it or not, I read that contract and I don't recall any wording that implied me being a slave until we faced Smaug." Bluebell made sure to keep her words quiet but her tone left Thorin in no doubt about the contempt she was currently feeling.

Thorin hissed at her before responding. "You speak so freely of our purpose while surrounded by spies."

"Spies? Bard and his family have only helped us. They even found weapons for us even if they aren't what you expected. Without Bard, we'd be stuck on the edge of Mirkwood without supplies or any way to defend ourselves. Or worse, he could have sent us right back to Thranduil's prisons."

"He helped us because it helped him, given the chance he'd sell us out in an instant if it didn't incriminate him. Stay away from him. Men are not to be trusted."

"Just like anyone who isn't a dwarf isn't to be trusted. In case you've forgotten I'm a Hobbit. I left my home behind to help you. Why is it hard for you to believe that a man might be willing help us. You say that he only helped himself but then why would he have lent me the coat of his own back. You didn't pay him to do that, did you?"

Rather than this logic changing Thorin's mind, he grew even angrier.

"You've proven yourself, just like men have proven themselves to be greedy and bigoted. If this Bard has been kind to you it's only because he wants you in his bed."

Bluebell gasped in shock and flushed red, in both embarrassment and in anger. Not only did he suggest something so vulgar he did it with most of the company within earshot. And she could tell by the interested looks on their faces that they had been paying close attention her and Thorin's argument.

"He is a grieving widower with children to look after! How dare you insinuate something so crass! It's not just insulting to our host but insulting to me." She shook her head at him walking away, trying to find a place in the crowded house that was somewhat free of stone-headed dwarves. Instead she ended up being approached by the other person she was hoping to avoid, Bard.

He looked at her, a worried, almost angry expression on his face. "That conversation didn't sound so pleasant."

Bluebell blushed again, "Did you hear what we were saying?"

Bard shook his head, "No, but I could tell you looked upset and he looked angry. Are you alright?"

"Just upset, and bit angry."

"I won't ask what you were talking about, I'm sure I've already learned more of your private matters today than you would've preferred."

"How much of Sigrid's and my conversation did you hear?"

"Enough, I heard how I've been keeping her from being happy and I heard you comfort her. I also heard..." Bard trailed off.

"About Rosabella and my husband." Bard nodded and Bluebell fell silent and looked down at her hairy feet, not wanting to see the pity in his face when she could hear it so clearly in his voice already.

"I want to offer you my sincerest condolences, I can't imagine losing a child as well as a spouse."

"Bad things happen. No that's wrong, terrible, unimaginable things happen." Bluebell looked up at him when she spoke, it required craning her neck, but somehow she couldn't help the desire to know how he felt. What she saw reassured her that she wasn't alone in her feelings, in her pain. His eyes shared the same haunted look she saw in the mirror whenever she dropped her mask. Suddenly, it was less important that Bard knew her past, what was stronger than her pride was her desire to comfort a fellow victim. It was that desire that had her sharing with Sigrid and it was that desire that now had her reaching up a hand to grab his hand, trying to give some relief to the pain in his eyes.

He started at her touch, but relaxed almost immediately, something resembling contentment in his eyes.

"You know it's not your fault that Sigrid has been struggling. She loves you so much, that's why she wants you to be happy."

Bard closed his eyes and sighed, obviously not believing her words. "If I hadn't been such a bad father, she would know that I want her to have what happiness she could get. I've relied on her far too much. She should have had a proper childhood. Instead she's had to be a mother to Bain and Tilda."

"If you were a bad father, I doubt your children would love you the way they do. Sure they haven't had the privilege of a two-parent family, but that's not your fault. And from the time I spent with her, Sigrid seems like a lovely, kind young woman. Don't do your children the disservice of underestimating the wonderful young people they've grown into."

It wasn't until she finished speaking that she realized how intently he was looking at her. His gaze was intense and admiring, making her feel pleasantly warm from the tips of her ears to the toes of her feet. At that moment, holding his hand felt less like a comforting act and more like an act of intimacy between a courting couple. She started to let go of his hand but Bard didn't let her, clasping both her hands in his own and bringing them to his lips lightly and tenderly. Gratitude and something she dare not name stirred in his eyes. A cough sounded behind them, and Bluebell paled at the sight of Thorin and the rest of the dwarves glaring mistrustfully at Bard and, to some extent, her. She blushed and forcefully pulled her hands away from Bard's, her heart beating fast. She was honestly terrified. While Thorin had to be wrong about Bard having only lecherous motivations in his actions she had obviously been wrong in the belief that he viewed her only as a lady in need. He looked a bit disappointed at her retreat but also understanding.

"Thank you for your kinds words, they mean much from a woman such as yourself." Bard looked around before continuing. "It looks like Sigrid is dishing up the soup, you best get some and try to get some sleep. I'm sure it's been a long day for you." Bard smiled at her before leaving her side, giving her a chance to think about what had just happened before trying to talk to him again. She had to figure out how to let him down easy if he did want to court her. Because no matter how handsome and kind Bard was, she was not ready to risk another heartbreak. Besides, there was a dragon still to face and no guarantee that she would survive. To fall in love now would be cruel to them both when they both had already suffered enough heartache.


End file.
